Harry Potter and the Next Plot on His Life

Chapter 01 - Harry and the Angry Two Inches

The morning of the most glorious day of the year, the day in which the Hogwarts Express ran carrying young witches and wizards off to the best school in the history of the world, Harry Potter awoke early. The walls of his cramped Leaky Cauldron room were very thin this year and he hadn't gotten much sleep. As he stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, Harry figured the Cauldron's long-standing policy about not allowing Witch-hookers on the premises must have been changed recently. Fleetingly, Harry wondered how much a wooker would cost but pushed the thought out of his head as he stepped into the shower. (Aja's note: All right, I know. "Wooker"? What am I thinking? Even I don't know, but don't give up hope just yet, leave us some room to grow! And you know it's going somewhere good when Harry gets naked in the first paragraph!)

The water was immediately scalding and Harry heard a girly voice shriek with pain. As he lifted his foot over the edge of the tub and tumbled to the cold ground, he realized the girly voice must have been his own. He hoped the wooker next door hadn't heard. He pulled the shower knob counterclockwise and hopped back in. Harry sighed as the warm water rushed over him.

He reached for the shampoo the Cauldron provided and his hand came back with an odd little bottle in its grasps. Squinting, and wishing vaguely he had worn his glasses in the shower, Harry tried to make out the label. "Forever Floral Fragrance Shampoo and Conditioner." Harry's lip curled in disgust as he opened the lid and took a whiff of the shampoo. It smelled like Aunt Petunia and Parvati Patil had both taken a collection of their perfumes together and dumped them in this tiny pink bottle.

"No way," he said pointedly to the little bottle still clutched in his hand. It did not answer.

Leaving the water running, Harry hopped out of the shower and started searching the drawers and cupboards in the bathroom frantically for a more masculine-scented shampoo. Finally, he grabbed his wand, something he had come to view as an all-purpose solution to any problem, and hopped back into the shower.

Holding the wand so the tip faced down into the open palm of his other hand, Harry started attempting spells. There must be, he figured, some kind of spell that would result in a manly shampoo.

"Shampoorius!"

"Latheriva!"

"Hair-cleaning-mixture-osa!"

Nothing worked. Defeated at last, Harry grabbed the pink bottle and poured a small amount of the contents into his awaiting hand. He looked at the label again.

"Forever Floral Fragrance...they can't really mean FOREVER forever," he said, arching an eyebrow.

The water was starting to cool and Harry closed his eyes tightly as he reached up and started working his hair into a lather.

"Merlin, this stuff is strong," he said, his face contorting from the overpowering scent. (Michelle's note: Merlin?) (Aja's note: They say that.) (Michelle's note: I'm embarrassed.)

After his shower, Harry got dressed, packed his things in his trunk, and made his way downstairs. Tom the innkeeper came over to Harry to say goodbye and pointed him toward a magi-taxi that would take him to the train station. The magi-taxi driver helped Harry load his things into the car and soon they were off.

Harry pretended not to notice that the driver rolled all the windows down and kept muttering something about the legitimacy of prissy-smelling, underfed heroes.

Harry's eagerness for what would be his fifth school year at Hogwarts was growing enormously with each step toward the platform. Granted, last year had not ended on a particularly high note as his friend Cedric Diggory had been killed by The Artist formerly Known As 'You Know Who,' now just represented by a Dark Mark. (Leigh's note: Random Prince references will have no bearing on the plot.) However, Harry had a feeling that this year would be much better on account of his wand having sprouted two inches over the summer. It was, he remembered reading, the sign of a maturing wizard. (Our Collective Note: Naughty!)

As he approached the platform, Harry scanned the crowd for the fiery-red mop of one Ron Weasley and the tangled bush of Hermione Granger, his two best friends at Hogwarts, easily recognizable by their roguish hair styles. Predictably, they were there waiting with their oversized school trunks and assorted Diagon Alley Boxes.

"Ron, Hermione!" Harry shouted, running across the platform as fast as he could considering his cumbersome luggage and hulking white owl.

"Harry!" they both beamed in unison. He could barely believe that just seeing two people could fill him with such joy. It must be, he thought, what coming home felt like to people who had pleasant upbringings. Caught up in his elation, Harry went to hug Hermione, but she stopped him, turning her nose up to sniff the air.

"I smell hibiscus," she said, wrinkling her nose. Harry blushed, remembering the terrible incident with the hotel shampoo. "Is that you Harry?"

"Yeah, it smells pretty like my mum," Ron said, taking a small whiff of Harry's pea-coat. (Our Collective Note: Just why he's wearing a pea-coat in the middle of the summer is really beyond all of us, but don't look into it, just keep going. This story is all about suspended belief.)

"Stop that," Harry said, giving Ron a slight shove. It was then Harry noticed Ron was staring at his chest or, more accurately, his paper-thin tshirt.

"Reggie and the Full Effect? Is that some kind of Quidditch team?"

Harry looked down at his shirt almost sheepishly. He was definitely going to miss his summer-long shopping spree at the local goodwill.

"It's a Muggle band, Ron," Hermione said, with a roll of her eyes, as if she had all along anticipated his dense question. Harry was ceaselessly surprised at Hermione's never-ending ocean of knowledge and his surprise must have showed on his face because she turned slightly pink and muttered something about her little cousin liking Mtv Europe.

Ron ignored her. "You look different Harry. I don't know why, but you do. Have you cut your hair?"

"No," Harry said, thinking Ron must have asked the question out of sheer politeness. Harry knew his hair was longer and more untamed than ever before.

"Is the scar flaring up then?" (Leigh's note: Something here is flaring up, but it's not Harry's scar hehe.)

"I'll tell you what it is," someone sneered from behind them. They spun around to face Draco Malfoy, one of Harry's numerous archenemies, who was looking particularly cheeky. "It's his wand," Malfoy continued, tilting his head downward to get a better look, "it's obscene!"

Hermione blushed and Ron sputtered.

"I see yours is still as small as ever," quipped Harry. Draco's expression soured.

"It's not the size that matters anyhow Potter. It's how you use it." Hermione suppressed a laugh into her sleeve and Ron openly sniggered. "And what is that awful smell? Is that you Granger? It reeks of estrogen over here."

Harry downcast his eyes and Hermione quickly covered for him, still curious as to why Harry smelled like he had been run over by a flower truck.

"Well, I can't stand it," Draco huffed, stalking away from them.

"Yeah, he prefers more manly smells if you know what I mean and I think you do," Ron whispered to them under his breath.

"I know. What crawled up his -"

"But, Harry, what's happened to Hedwig?" Ron asked suddenly, pointing behind Harry. The stunning white owl had been greased with blue glitter and red lipgloss. Harry's expression twisted up as he glanced at the specimen of glam rock that used to be his owl. (Aja's note: Alright, some explanation is necessary here. Go see "Hedwig and the Angry Inch." You'll get not only the chapter title but also this lame joke. But seriously, it's my favorite movie and I couldn't resist making some sort of passing reference.) (Michelle's note: Passing? In this story, you know it'll be back and probably with an entire chapter dedicated to setting up the somewhat cheap one liner.)

"Er, it's a phase I think. Hedwig's having a bit of an identity crisis." He lowered his voice so Hedwig wouldn't hear and whispered to Ron and Hermione, "Just the other day I caught her with a David Bowie album in her cage."

"David who?" Ron asked loudly.

"Really Ron, didn't you pay attention at all in Muggle Studies?" Hermione scolded. (Leigh's note: Because surely David Bowie's magical prowess in Labyrinth can serve some sort of educational purpose.)

"Didn't have to," Ron replied smugly. "That's what you're for."

The three of them walked through the barrier and onto the platform where the Hogwarts Express was waiting. They gave goodbye hugs to Mrs. Weasley who was getting teary-eyed as usual, and boarded the train.

"So Harry," Hermione said as soon as the train had departed. "What's with the stifling floral aroma?" She coughed and waved her hand through the air in an attempt to clear the compartment of the scent.

"The Cauldron only had this one kind of shampoo," Harry explained, wondering just how bad the smell was. "It was called Forever Floral Fragrance Shampoo or something."

Immediately Hermione groaned and Harry got the impression that Ron was trying to bite his lips in order not to grin.

"What? What?" Harry looked at Hermione desperately.

"It's just that--" (Aja's note: My little Harry Potter action figure hops off my computer monitor and sits down on my knee. "Don't tell me I'm going to be smelling that way for the whole story!" he says. "Sweetheart, can't you see that it's potentially comedy gold?" I reply. He sighs, his plastic chest heaving. "Okay, if you insist.")

Just then they were joined by Neville Longbottom. But this was a very different Neville Longbottom than the one they had last seen. Neville's hair was dyed jet black and he had what could only be described as one amazing, if not possibly cancerous, tan. Quite a feat for someone almost as pasty as himself, Harry thought.

"N-Neville?" Ron stuttered, almost unable to believe the sight before him. Neville, apparently unaware of the drastic changes he had undergone over the summer, sat down next to Hermione and smiled broadly.

"Well, how have your summers been?"

"Fabulous," Ron replied, still dumbstruck.

"Mine was, as well. Grandmother took me to America to visit her sister in Salem."

Just then, Harry noticed a rather large dot on Neville's forehead. Hermione appeared to have noticed it as well. She was leaning over and trying to swipe it off of his face.

"Neville, you've got something right here," Harry motioned to his own forehead.

"I-I know," Neville replied anxiously. "It's um, my um, mole."

The three of them exchanged glances while Neville stared down at his hands. This alleged mole was definitely a new acquisition along with the hair and the tan. Harry was utterly baffled.

"Um, Neville, are those leather pants?" Ron was staring repulsively at the extremely out-of-character attire his friend was sporting. Neville twitched and the friction between his slacks and the seat squeaked loudly.

"No. Wait. Yes. Well, maybe," Neville said, getting up from his seat. "Listen, I'll talk to you guys later. I better get changed."

"What the hell has happened to Neville?" Ron shouted as soon as the compartment door was shut once again.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione sighed. Ron stared at her, a look of comic amazement on his face.

"Oh bloody Merlin on crutches, Hermione, do let us in on the secret." (Michelle's Note: It's happening again, Merlin's back! Why?) (Aja's Note: Shut it!)

"Neville is trying to adopt a new, more suave persona. It was really rather rude of you two to make such a big deal out of it, although I will admit modeling himself after Enrique Iglasias wasn't exactly the wisest move," Hermione explained. (Leigh's Note: At least he's modeling himself after something, he was so bloody boring and predictable before.) (Aja's Note: Hmph. I like Neville.)

Ron turned to Harry.

"Sometimes it's like she's speaking a secret language, isn't it?"

Harry agreed, laughing at Hermione's glower. But the attraction between his best friends was so apparent that he predicted that they were probably two days away from passionate make-out sessions. (Our Collective Note: We heart obvious foreshadowing!)

The three of them spent the rest of the train ride telling each other about their respective summers. Mr. Weasley had let Ron tag along to the Ministry a few times and Ron had found the inner workings of the highly respected establishment extremely boring, even in times of hectic crisis. He spent most of his time trying to spy on Fred and George who had taken to the basement this year, making explosion after bloody explosion. Hermione regaled the group with her horrific tales of baby-sitting for her neighbors and explained how she had become a vegetarian in an attempt to better both herself and the world around her. Harry, in turn, told his friends about how he had found his mental escape from the Dursley Hell in an small music store just a few blocks away.

Harry let himself dip in and out of conversations. Somehow just looking at his best friends and being there in that moment was enough to content him and make up for his miserable summer. Sometimes it seemed that nothing could matter, not even Voldemort and his endless murder attempts, when he was with Ron and Hermione.

Engulfed in laughter from each other's stories, the train ride to Hogwarts flew by exceptionally fast. After the uneventful invisible horse carriage ride the trio rushed into the Great Hall so as not to miss getting prime seats at the feast. Finding places at the middle of the long table, they watched the sorting.

Harry quickly found himself staring at Draco Malfoy, a practice he often engaged in. He wondered why they just couldn't be friends. He had a feeling that beneath it all, even though Malfoy had tried to kill his favorite Hippogriff and generally attempted to make his life miserable at Hogwarts on a daily basis, that Draco really liked him.

"Hey, Harry," it took a few seconds before Harry noticed that Ron was speaking to him. "You've noticed it too then?"

Harry blushed, feeling as if he'd been caught in an intimate act. "Noticed what?"

"Malfoy's goons, they haven't been surrounding him every second."

"Hmmph, I thought he looked rather small," Harry said.

Just then, Neville chose to make his grand entrance, flanked on both sides by none other than Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle pulled a chair out for Neville and Neville sat down in it.

"Thank you," Neville said. "I shall enlist your assistance later. You may be off for now." With a wave of his hand, Crabbe and Goyle scurried off to find places at the Slytherin table. Hermione stared at Neville in disbelief.

"What was that about?" Ron demanded.

"Excuse me, if you want an autograph, you'll have to wait until after the feast," Neville said in a haughty tone. Then, noticing Hermione, he said, "Hola my little chiquita banana." He grabbed her hand from where it was resting on the table and kissed it. Hermione blushed. Ron leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, looking jealous. Neville was definitely doing a better job with his new suave persona than he had been on the train, Harry thought, impressed.

It was then that he noticed Colin Creevy sitting two seats down whispering to his friends. Finally he came forward, blushing and holding a trembling copy of "Teen Wizard" magazine in his hand.

"Will you sign this?"

"Oh no, not again," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Colin how many times have I told you...?"

"No, not you. Him," Colin said, handing the magazine to Neville, whose mole was now over by his left ear. "It's for my sister," he quickly explained. Harry was just about to point out that Colin didn't have a sister when his attention was turned elsewhere. Hermione was elbowing him in the side.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"Look, look up there. No one told me Malfoy had a sister." There was no mistaking it though, Harry thought. The same silver blonde hair, icy eyes, the same tight ass...wait, Harry stopped himself. (Our Collective Note: We love it!) (Aja's note: My little Harry Potter action figure pokes a hard plastic finger into my hand. "I am SO not noticing Malfoy's arse!" I lift him gently onto the desk where he stands glowering at me. "Firstly, it's ass, honey. I know that whole British thing you've got going is very cute but frankly none of us can stand that word. And secondly, you must admit Malfoy has a certain mystique about him that you find strangely alluring." Action Figure Harry stomps his foot down, hard. "Where's my wand?" he yells, furious. "My little sister lost it," I reply, sadly. "Hmph! Well, I'm not talking to you!" he screams as he runs to sulk behind my perfume.)

"And Varicose Malfoy...Gryffindor!" the sorting hat announced. Everyone's faces at the Gryffindor table dropped and Draco looked as if someone had run over his dog. Harry had a feeling that this would be a very interesting year. (Michelle's Note: We had nothing better than ran over his dog?) (Aja's Note: Especially since they don't even have cars.) (Leigh's Note: Maybe it was run over by a broom. They can reach pretty high speeds you know.) (Aja's Note: I'm trying to visualize that but it's just not working!)

The rest of the sorting progressed rather uneventfully. The Gryffindors ignored Varicose Malfoy throughout the meal as she ate three helpings of mashed potatoes and stared down at her plate, forlorn. (Leigh's Note: Aja, you and Varicose are kindred with the potato-and-the-Harry-liking!) (Aja's Note: Damn straight!) Harry felt bad about the unwelcoming atmosphere Varicose was dealing with. Suddenly, watching her eat, he wanted to say something nice to make her feel like she belonged. He figured that no one who liked mashed potatoes that much could be all bad.

"Hey, Harry, eating for two?" Ron asked him, eyeing the mountain of chicken legs towering on his plate.

"Well my wand has sprouted two inches--I'm a growing boy! Clearly I need more nourishment," Harry replied, ripping through chicken flesh with his sharp, gleaming, carnivorous teeth. Hermione made a faint sound of disgust and fixed her attention on the small salad in front of her.

After Neville performed a, what he called "charity concert," consisting of a horrible rendition of "Hero" sung into a fork, mid-meal at the Gryffindor table, the feast came to a close. Harry, Ron, and Hermione herded in the direction of where Hagrid was standing, collecting chicken bones to feed to Fang. Hermione had suggested earlier that they ask Hagrid if he knew anything about Varicose. (Leigh's note: Because of course, Hagrid is a veritable pastiche of important and intelligent information.) It was, she had said, decidedly creepy that a Malfoy was sorted into Gryffindor.

"Now Hermione," Hagrid started, once they had greeted him and asked his opinion. "Not all members of the same family get sorted into the same house, you know that."

"Yes, b-b-but she's a Malfoy," Ron said, as if that single piece of evidence would somehow make Hagrid reconsider his version of the facts. (Michelle's Note: Ron has a speech impediment I think, he is stuttering like it's going out of style!) (Aja's Note: Well, I feel that Ron would be the kind of person who has a jumble of emotions that affect his speech...oh shut up, I don't have to explain myself to you! Plus, knowing us, we'll use it as a future plot point!) (Michelle's Note: True, I'll write it down for later.)

"I didn't know Draco had a sister, Hagrid," Hermione explained.

"Huh?" Hagrid asked. "He doesn't. Varicose is the daughter of Lucius Malfoy's younger brother, Maximus."

"Like in Gladiator?" Harry asked excitedly. He was answered with strange looks from three separate directions and went back to staring at the floor and thinking about his endless alienation.

"Um, I think we're too close to Professor Sprout, let's move this way a little," Hagrid whispered fervently, ushering the trio to a corner of the Hall. "Her flowery perfume always makes me sneeze." This statement was followed by a gargantuan sneeze which resulted in Ron and Hermione shooting looks at Harry, who backed away slowly.

It was evident that Hermione wanted to ask Hagrid some more pressing questions about the Malfoy family but Dumbledore was shooting a warning look in their direction and they quickly caught up to the rest of their house.

Walking up the stairs, Harry ignored the bickering between his two friends as he felt his eyes being drawn to Varicose Malfoy, who was a few paces ahead of him. Her sharp face was tilted downward, giving her an almost humble appearance--so different from how Draco carried himself. Varicose walked differently, as well. Her steps were short but purposeful, almost as though she was trying to leave something behind her with each footfall. Harry pictured Draco's arrogant stride in his head and thought it strange that the two were related. Strange that Hermione could pick Varicose out of a crowd as Draco's sister. Because suddenly Draco and Varicose were two separate entities who existed in two separate worlds that were never to collide.

Finally in their dorm, Harry and his roommates settled in. Dean's soccer posters went back on the walls and Ron's doctored picture of Hermione's head on a Playwizard centerfold returned to it's place, loosely taped up above his bed. (Our Collective Note: What's scary is that in the wizarding world the pictures move, so it could be doing "funny" things, wink, wink.)

"Goodnight, Hermione," Ron sighed sweetly.

"Ron, I thought we decided that picture was going to stay home this year," Harry winced at the sight of the rather graphic poster.

"Well, it's back and better than ever! I found this Color Copier and Magical Arts place in Hogsmeade. Look at the detail! It's almost like it's her real body!" said Ron excitedly, "Man, I hope it falls down on top of me during the night."

"Gee, I wish you would tell us more details about your disgusting obsession with Hermione Granger," Seamus shivered due to sheer revolution. Ron huffed, jumped up on his bed, loosened the tape holding the poster, and stared at Seamus defiantly.

After firmly establishing ground rules about the poster and it's place in their lives, Harry settled into bed. He stayed up for a while thinking about tight asses and the blonde haired people they belonged to. (Aja's Note: My action figure peers from behind the perfume long enough to make a quite obscene hand gesture.) Then he closed his eyes to the faint, erotic whispers of his best friend talking to his faithful poster of pent-up sexual energy. Thankfully, the poster didn't talk back. Harry fell asleep deciding that this was definitely the strangest start to a school year yet

Across the castle, in the Slytherin dorms, Draco Malfoy was thinking the exact same thing.

****

Next Chapter: It's Draco-Time as father and son have a heart to heart and Lucius gets some much needed fashion advice. The all-knowing Hermione finds out about the poster. Harry gets a suspicious letter and doesn't know who it could be from. Because he's a little dim and overly emotional. Ron orders jelly from a catalogue.